


Secrecy

by bislayer



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert, Second person POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 08:33:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13700793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bislayer/pseuds/bislayer
Summary: Nobody ever said being a double agent was an easy job. It was never going to be easy. It was never supposed to be easy. But it was never supposed to be hard. Pulling a trigger never seemed harder.





	Secrecy

**Author's Note:**

> Set during s1ep4 with a bit of changes. It'll diverge, but here's a good starting point for the story. Anyway, hope you like it!

Pain.

That's all you could truly remember. Bitter pain throughout. 

Broken knuckles and egos as well as a rather annoying bruise that bothered you every time you moved. You couldn't just as well tell anyone the amount of pain you were in, as you shifted yourself in your seat once again, looking up from the paper in front of you, around the office filled with only men, the only other woman looking about as comfortable as you, her feet on her desk, munching on her sandwich, a frown furrowing her brow. Her brown eyes were confused, and as discretely as you could, trying to avoid the eyes of any of your male coworkers, you stood and walked over to her desk, offering the brunette a well-practiced warm smile.

"Real interesting crossword, huh, Carter?" You asked her, a teasing edge to your voice, the well-practiced mannerism of friendship coming easily to you.

She looked up from the file she had been holding, her hand drooping a little too much, your eyes scanning over the file instantaneously, a hum escaping from her, not noticing your glance at the file, the numbers already burned into your memory, a small smile creeping onto your face as you took the chair from the empty desk in front of her own, fighting the urge to smirk at the look of confusion that flashed through her brown eyes, before she spoke, her voice smooth as always, a tone matching your own. "Yes, I don't suppose you happen to know a four letter word for disappointment?" 

You laughed slightly at her, before quickly racking your brain to find a word to fit the description, a commotion distracting you as seemingly all the men began to head in the direction of the both of you, clustering around the door to the small office as a blond man stood tall and proud, the ever present smirk on his face seeming to fill you with a sensation of slight uneasiness, as you rolled your eyes standing up, Peggy mirroring your actions, an almost audible grimace escaping you as you became aware of the bruise once more, causing you to wonder if perhaps it was something more damaging than just a bruise. Your face hardened as you stared at the all too arrogant man, your arms crossing over your chest, fighting the urge to roll your eyes once more, irrationally scared that one day your eyes might just get stuck in the back of your head. 

You cleared your throat slightly, as you inspected your nails uninterestedly, wondering what the hell was so important that the asshole himself, Jack Thompson, _Agent_ Jack Thompson, he would remind snidely, that the entirety of the bullpen had to stand in front of him. You looked around quickly, mentally checking that every agent was there and accounted for, before your eyes fell back on the man who seemed to be standing as if he was the most important person anyone could've laid eyes on.

"Who here knew what Ray Kresminski's middle name was?" Thompson asked, and there was not much more to hear after that, having an idea of where the man was going with this. You blocked out the monotone droning of his voice, scanning the agents, recreating the look of slight mourning almost perfectly as your eyes landed on the contraption inside the office, before focusing back on the man who seemed very intent on his speech, his already over-inflated ego seeming to take up the entire space of the room. Scoffing slightly at his words of how he was in charge and that nobody would be resting earned a glare in your direction, your eyes matching his own, daring him to speak against you.

"Somethin' funny, agent?" He asked, his eyes narrowed, his voice endlessly mocking about your rank, infuriating you to no end, as you moved, leaning back on the desk behind you. 

"Your command." You said, not missing a beat, smirking slightly as his eyes seemed to grow narrower, glaring more intensely. "There's not much we can do at the moment, other than collect would-be evidence." You stated. "That machine," you began, motioning with your head towards the typewriter with a razor and radio connected to it, "twenty minutes and I'll know how it works and where it goes. After all, that's why I was hired by the SSR, not to take your lunch orders, Agent Thompson." You spoke with a calculated voice, knowing better than to let any hint of a emotion into your voice, lest the men would find it as a way to destroy you. "And, should you be reminded, Agent Carter trained Captain America, so I think that she'd be much more suitable for breaking femurs, as you put it, than say, you." Glaring at the interim chief, you grabbed your notepad and pen. "But, lunch orders, right?"

You gritted your teeth together as you walked past him and the other agents, scribbling the number down which was in the back of your mind, as you walked to Peggy, noticing how tightly she seemed to be gripping her pen, a tight smile stretched across her face as the rest of the agents dispersed, the both of you getting sympathetic looks from Daniel, and immediately invisible to the rest. "You got the scientists, ya?" You asked her, knowing that there would be a only a small time window that was drawing nearer and nearer and there was no way anybody would screw it up.

"Yes, that works out well." She said rather uptight, a odd reaction for such a simple statement, but you thought nothing of it, your focus maintained on keeping your own actions normal. 

Nodding slightly at her, you offered her your well-practiced warm smile, beginning to walk towards the conference room, where a gaggle of agents seemed to be gathering. A smirk appeared on your face as you turned around to face Peggy, who's attention was on her pen. (Really, what is it with her pen?) "That word, Jack." You said without explanation as a small mischievous smile appeared on her face, a small laugh escaping her mouth as she tried to hide her smile, before nodding to you slightly and turning away.

You continuously scanned the office as you took the lunch orders, the only thing keeping you sane was the notion that when this was over you could strangle Jack Thompson with absolutely no consequence. Strategically asking the acting chief last found you in the office of the chief, a tight smile stretched across your face as you spoke with the man for two seconds, having to leave the office for ten minutes because the phone lines had gone down, feeling bad for Rose who would end up having to deal with the wrath of the man for seven and a half minutes, exactly.

The small piece of wire in your pocket seemed to rub against your bruise, causing you to grimace before looking out towards the bullpen and diving to close the blinds to the office, shutting the door silently, deftly checking your watch. 5 59. 

Speedily you removed the piece of paper from the typewriter, slipping a fresh piece of paper into it, grabbing the razor with your sleeve and yanking it up before pulling your sleeves over your fingers and beginning to type, resetting the typewriter, making sure to not touch it with your skin. Gnawing on your inner lip, you glanced at your watch, feeling anticipation build as you had less than 3 and a half minutes. 

The familiar sound of clacking startled you, causing you to look at the paper as the letters slowly started to type themselves onto the page, till they finally stopped. Without time to read the message you quickly typed a one word reply before taking the paper from the typewriter, feeding the old one in, adjusting the typewriter to the way it had been before, slipping the own piece of paper into the pocket of your skirt, opening one blind slightly, peering out, opening the door silently and exiting the office, sitting in your desk as Jack Thompson strolled back into the bullpen, checking your watch instinctively to see that he had walked in 14 seconds before he was supposed to, feeling a sense of relief as your heart pounded loudly in your chest.

Grabbing your coat to grab lunch, you left the building, tempted to look at the piece of paper which seemed to burn a hole in your pocket, but knowing better than to in the relative public.

It wasn't till you were at home alone that you were able to read the piece of paper.

_**Mission:** Maintain cover by any means necessary._


End file.
